The sand bore the tracks of an exodus of monsters, and Sabre hoped most would die in the desert. Purr gazed around with a disappointed air, becoming almost bald in the heat. Not far from the mist wall, they came across a battleground. The corpses of three Death Zone monsters lay beside a partially devoured sand dragon. Sabre was sorry the sand dragon had lost, but it had been badly outnumbered. Judging by the tracks in the churned sand, at least a dozen monsters had fought it, and blood-streaked trails told him that many wounded beasts had left the carnage. He hoped they would die, and many more would fall foul of sand dragons. They walked past the bloated corpses to escape the stench, then made camp and rested through the heat of the day, dozing in the cart's shade. At sundown they set out again, Sabre keeping an eye on the scanners.
The nights of endless trudging passed with incredible tedium, and Sabre wondered if they were crossing a broader or narrower section of the Badlands. He avoided patches of radiation, but at least when Dena scampered away he did not have to worry about her, although several times he warned her not to collect pretty stones that were slightly radioactive. With plenty of provisions, the only discomfort was the daytime heat, which made it hard to sleep, and the night chill.
On the third night, they encountered one of the worm creatures. Dena studied it with awed fascination, spending two hours watching it forage amongst the rocks, selecting edible stones with its sensitive feelers. While he waited, Sabre pondered the possible future of these animals. When the edible copper-bearing rocks on the surface were exhausted, the beasts would be forced to dig for their food or become extinct, taking the dragons with them. A warning flash drew his attention to the scanners' data, which showed a group of five monsters two kilometres away. He called Dena, and they set off once more, adjusting their course stay away from the beasts.
Sabre admired the donkeys' stamina and hardiness, for they showed no sign of fatigue or weight loss, despite the shortage of food and water. At times their mournful, klaxon braying, which tapered off into whistling moans and comical grunts, woke him during the day. On the eighth night, he and Tassin discussed the plan to retake Arlin while they walked.
"Taking the kingdom back will be no problem," she assured him. "My uncle will be regent now, and when I return it will automatically revert to me, as the rightful heir."
Sabre nodded. "Good. Then we just have to get to your castle without Torrian finding out, and keep our presence a secret until I've installed the weapons and trained the men. I think we should keep the cart and travel as a poor peasant family."
"Yes, you could wrap a cloth around your head, and I'll wear a veil. When the soldiers were searching for us, that wouldn't have worked, but now I doubt they'll give us a second glance."
Dena, who rode a donkey beside them, said, "If they get funny, I'll distract them."
Sabre glanced at her in surprise, realising that the child longed to be useful, and a part of their plans. "Good idea. Maybe you could throw a tantrum or something, start crying, pretend to be ill?"
Dena grinned. "No, I'll run away and pick a fight with someone, then you'll have to come after me."
Tassin smiled. "That would do it."
Twice more, the scanners detected groups of Death Zone monsters, and once they crossed a claw-footed track that meandered aimlessly. They came across the bloated corpse of a bird-like creature with a fearsome toothed beak and shrivelled venom sacks that appeared to have died of dehydration, its vestigial wings useless for flight.
Sabre calculated that they had travelled for twenty days when the mountains appeared ahead one morning, blue in the distance. Tassin joined Dena in a wild jig that left them breathless and giggling. The donkeys' fodder had run out two days before, and the food and water were almost gone. Purr eyed the distant mountains with some excitement. He was still becoming accustomed to the fact that nothing Changed anymore, but his ability to shift remained an asset. During the day he was almost hairless and large eared, while at night he became furry.
The following morning, they reached the grassy flats that ran up to the road and stopped beside a rivulet to rest, eat roast rabbit and bathe while the donkeys grazed. Olgara was visible in the distance, so they were three days travel from the mountain pass. Sabre cut a strip off Tassin's old petticoat to wrap around his forehead, and she used the remainder as a head cover and veil. The next day they travelled along the dusty road, coaches and wagons overtaking them.
Dena, who had never seen horses before, begged Tassin to give her one when they reached the castle. They came across a few wrecked carts, their cargo strewn on the scuffed ground, a sure sign that some Death Zone monsters had made it this far. Once they passed a freshly killed beast, the soldiers who had slain it still standing around discussing the battle.
At the pass, they joined the traffic entering Arlin, carrying goods from Olgara. Since Olgaran soil was poor, the city-kingdom traded mostly in goat's cheese, powerful wines, dates and salt from the coast beyond the city. Arlin traded fresh vegetables, salted meat and fruit. The queue of carts was long, and Sabre realised that it was autumn again, the harvests were in and the merchants busy. Border guards leant on their spears, lifting tarpaulins to examine cargo. Disputes broke out when guards demanded bribes to allow contraband through the border, and merchants protested.
When their turn came, the guards looked as if they would wave them through, then one stepped up.
"What's in the cart?"
Sabre ducked his head. "Metal, Sergeant."
"I ain't a sergeant." The soldier wandered to the back of the cart and lifted the old cloths they had draped over the cargo. His eyes widened at the sight of the gleaming silver tubes. "'Ere, where'd you get this?"
"Found it, Corporal."
The soldier glared at him. "I ain't a corporal, either. Where'd you find it?"
Sabre waved a hand. "Beyond Olgara."
"What if it's cursed?"
"It's not. We were there for many days, and none of us is sick."
The soldier grunted, eyeing the metal cylinders. "Where are you taking it?"
Sabre glanced at Tassin, who replied, "To the smelters at Miller's Rest. They can make good spear heads and swords from it."
The guard frowned, and Sabre thought he was going to object to her assertion. Surely he did not know that the alloy from which the weapons were made was far too hard for a medieval smelter to melt? Evidently he did not, for he dropped the cloth and came back to stand before Sabre.
"Scavengers, aren't you?"
"Yes, Captain." Sabre bowed his head.
"I ain't a captain!" The soldier looked back at the growing queue of muttering merchants behind them and gave Sabre a final glare. "Go on then, move this heap!"
Sabre led the donkeys forward, and they crested the pass, emerging from the mountains' rocky outcrops to descend into Arlin. Tassin grinned at the vista of rolling green fields dotted with shepherds' huts and flocks of sheep that lay before them. Belts of forest clothed the land like patches of moss on a green, rumpled blanket, and she revelled in the fresh, cool air and verdure.
The journey became less arduous, although they had to camp in the forest. Tassin wished she could to buy a wagon or at least afford to stay at an inn, but was not prepared to ask Sabre to earn any money. The donkeys grew fat and needed less goading, allowing him to ride on the cart. Purr sat between them like a fat, oddly marked cat, and Tassin hoped he would be accepted as such, as long as he did not speak to anyone but them.
Niam would be Regent, and she looked forward to seeing his expression when she returned. Her cousin would be disappointed that he would remain a prince. Sabre’s gloomy expression surprised her.
"What's wrong?"
He shrugged. "Just wondering what I'm going to do with myself now that our adventures are over."
"You'll stay with us, of course," she said, as if no other option existed. "After all you've done, I shall make you a lord. As such, you'll be entitled to an estate, which I shall award you, and a yearly stipend fro
m the crown. You'll have servants, and a community that will rely on you to represent them at court. You'll have a stable of fine horses and go hunting with your peers. You'll hold balls and..." Tassin trailed off, dismayed by his dour mien. "You don't like the idea?"
"It all sounds very grand, but it's not for me. Once your problems are solved, it will only be a matter of time before the spacer returns for me. There's no point in giving me all those things. I won't be around long enough to make it worth your while, and it's not my style, anyway." Tassin opened her mouth to protest, but he added, "I'll build a little home somewhere nice, and grow a few vegetables, have a few animals. It's enough for me until he takes me away. It's more than a cyber ever had before."
Dena cried, "I'll come with you! We can get married!"
"Be quiet," Tassin snapped.
The child pouted, clearly surprised by the rebuke.
Tassin studied Sabre, who stared ahead. She said, "When I make you a lord, you'll be a citizen of this world, with the right to live here for the rest of your life. Manutim would not dare to steal you away then."
He shook his head. "Manutim won't care if I'm the bloody King. You don't understand. To him I'm not even a human being. I'm a piece of equipment. Don't you get it? As far as he, and the rest of the universe, is concerned, I'm a damaged fighting machine, with no rights at all on any planet."
"But you're not a machine anymore, you're a man. You always were a man, but now you're a free man. He can't enslave you!"
"No. To him, I'm just broken. He'll have me fixed."
For a long time, only the clip-clop of the donkey's hooves and the rattle of the metal wheels broke the silence. Tassin frowned as she pondered his words, dismayed but still unable to believe that such a barbaric thing was possible.
"Then have whatever you want," she said. "Build your hut and live in the woods, but don't leave me. I won't allow Manutim to take you away, I promise. I'll raise an army to fight him."
Tassin touched his arm, desperate to persuade him to stay with her so she could win his heart and protect him from Manutim. Sabre glanced at her work-roughened hand, and a bleak, haunted expression flitted across his face. He raised piercing pale eyes and met hers, then looked ahead again.
"Maybe."
Tassin slumped with relief, withdrawing her hand. Dena looked from one to the other with a knowing smile, and the mosscat gave a purring chuckle. Tassin shot him a dirty look, and he smirked, wiping his whiskers. The Queen stared ahead, eager for the first glimpse of her home.
When it came into sight as they rounded a bend, Dena crowed, "Look, a castle!"
Tassin's heart swelled with joy and her eyes filled with tears. The grey stone fortress stood like a bastion of sanctuary in its estate of green fields, solid and comforting. Her home, where she had been born. Pennants flew from the battlements, and she recognised her uncle's colours, as well as his son's. In the valley below, Traytown sprawled. Smoke rose from its chimneys and people moved like ants along its cobbled streets. Death Zone monsters had ravaged parts of it, and tracts of flattened, torn up crops led to smashed, burnt houses. A cart trundled towards them, probably having delivered produce to the duke. The farmer hailed them as he passed by, his florid, weather-beaten face wreathed in a simple smile. It was all so familiar and peaceful.
Sorrow mixed oddly with her joy. After all the ordeals she had been through, now a greater danger threatened. What if she could not prevent Manutim from taking Sabre away? The thought brought a stab of exquisite pain, and tears trickled down her cheeks.
Sabre glanced at her and smiled. "Glad to be home?"
She nodded and wiped her eyes, forcing a weak smile.
As the donkeys approached the tall gates, two guards stepped out and blocked the drawbridge with crossed spears. Sabre hauled the donkeys to a halt and smiled at Tassin.
"Here's your moment of glory."
She swallowed a lump and climbed down to approach the unfamiliar guards, who were probably from Niam's army.
"State your business," one said.
"Where's Captain Effan?"
"Killed in the war."
"Oh." Tassin pushed back the old petticoat that covered her hair and drew herself up, aware of her outlandish leather dress and suntanned appearance. "You may tell my uncle that his niece, Queen Tassin, wishes to see him at once."
Her tone no longer carried its old authoritarian air, and the guards looked at each other, then laughed.
"What loony bin did you escape from?" one asked.
Sabre chuckled and Dena giggled. Tassin shot them a glare, but grinned, almost laughing. Turning back to the chortling guards, she schooled her expression.
"I do not recognise either of you, so you must be from Niam's army. Kindly call one of my old soldiers."
The guards swapped glances again. "Look, lass, it was a good joke, but Queen Tassin's dead, God rest her soul." He made a religious gesture. "Your 'usband and daughter are waiting." He said it in a kindly way, and her smile returned.
"I know it must be hard to believe, but surely it would not be too much to ask, just to see one of the old guards?" She rattled off as many names as she could remember, and the sentries shuffled their feet, looking uneasy.
"Used to work here, did you?"
"In a manner of speaking. I was born here. My mother was Queen Arial and my father was King Litham Alrade."
The men swapped nervous looks, then one jerked his head and the other hurried away. Within minutes he returned with a robust, florid man whom Tassin recognised.
"Erman!"
The soldier stopped, his eyes bulging. He took another step, then his legs buckled and he fell to his knees, the blood draining from his face. "My Queen!"
Tassin looked at the sentries. "There, you see?"
Erman wobbled to his feet and shambled towards her, where he knelt again, his eyes never leaving her. "You're alive! Praise the Lord! You're alive!"
"Indeed I am, Erman. Would you be so kind as to inform my uncle?"
Erman leapt up. "At once, Your Majesty! At once!" He dashed away as fast as his stubby legs could carry him.
She eyed the thunderstruck sentries. "Now may I come in?"
They stepped aside, bowing. One said, "Yes, Your Majesty. We apologise for not recognising you."
She waved it away. "It has been a long time, and you never knew me."
As she walked into the courtyard, Tassin experienced a resurgence of the intense pride and euphoria her queenly status had always engendered, a sensation she had all but forgotten. Now she realised how much of her air of authority and power had seeped out of her over the months. It flooded back, but she refused to let it go to her head. The cart rattled in behind her, and she turned to smile at Sabre and Dena, who bounced with excitement. Three grooms ambled out of the stable, and one of the sentries hurried over to whisper in their ears. They shot Tassin dumbfounded looks, then bowed and ran to the cart to lead the donkeys away. Sabre and Dena jumped down, but Purr remained atop the cart, disdaining to disembark in the courtyard.
Sabre gazed around. "It hasn't changed much."
"Of course not. It is a castle." She smiled, then looked around as shrieks, shouts and screams came from inside the fortress. Niam's deep bellow tried to quell the uproar. The unintelligible gabble of voices raised in surprise and disbelief grew louder, then a babbling throng spilt into the courtyard, led by Niam's massive figure. Erman scuttled beside him, Niam's huge fist bunched in his scruff. As her uncle caught sight of her, he dropped Erman like a shaken rat and stopped dead, causing a pile up behind him.
"Tassin?" He stared at her with bulging eyes.
She raised her arms, then let them fall back in an expansive gesture. "Back from the dead, Uncle."
Niam strode over to her and engulfed her in a bone-cracking hug that Sabre was afraid she would not survive. She emerged alive, if tousled and breathless. Niam's wife, Bethan, fluttered around, overwhelmed by the excitement, until Niam roared, "A bath! Some clothes! Food! Go!"
Tassin was quicker. "Niam!"
Everyone froze, looking fearful and confused. Niam turned to Tassin. "Yes, Majesty?"
"Those two come with me. They are nobility, and must be treated as such."
Niam bowed. "Of course, My Queen."
Sabre raised a brow, but Tassin grinned and allowed the ladies to lead her away. Niam beckoned to a servant and instructed him to see to their needs, then hurried after the Queen. Sabre and Dena followed the man to a spacious suite whose grey walls were hung with tapestries and portraits. Finely woven rugs softened its floors and polished dark wood chairs provided seating. Delicate tables held antique ornaments and a vast fireplace dominated one wall, a pair of battle-axes hanging above it. A doorway led into a big bedroom with a four-poster bed and a bathing room off it. The servant left them, saying that he would order baths.
Dena pulled a face. "I had a bath four days ago."
Sabre smiled. "You'll find one terrible custom in this country, which you'll have to learn to live with, I'm afraid. Here they bath every day."
Dena looked horrified. "Every day? No way!"
"Princesses aren't allowed to smell."
Dena considered this, her brow puckered. "You mean, if I don't bath, I can't be a princess?" He nodded, and the child heaved a great sigh. "In that case, I suppose I'll have to."
His lips twitched at her hang-dog air. "Yes, I suppose you will."
"I knew there'd be something bad about being a princess." She flung herself into an upholstered chair.
Sabre went over to the windows and gazed out at the forest, whose leaves turned yellow and orange as autumn approached again. A year had passed while he travelled through the strange lands beyond the desert, looking after Tassin. Now she no longer needed him. A cyber without a mission was as useless as nipples on a bull, he mused, and his time was running out. As soon as the lasers were installed, he would be redundant. Tassin would rejoin her high society and forget him. That was good, and the less he saw of her now, the better. It did nothing to ease the ache in his chest, however. The prospect of returning to his half-life of pain and subjugation loomed like a shadow over him.
The Cyber Chronicles Book III - The Core Page 20